Creatures of the Dark
by Devin Trinidad
Summary: "Don't move, for your sake and mine." "They're only shadows." "Shadows that can kill within seconds."


The young man walks in and sniffs the air, reveling in the scent of the worn out tales of old. His gloved hands, previously empty, were now gathering the tomes that were scatted throughout the tables, his intent on finding their homes fresh in his movements. He comes here sometimes, despite his Superior's orders. The young scientist, obedient in all other commands would rather do kitchen duty for the rest of his nonexistence rather than obey that command. Besides, who (other than those with an affinity for the weak minded) would go off on reconnaissance missions that involved getting one's hands dirty than enjoying a wonderful novel? A small smirk, contradictory towards his none heart, appeared on his shadowed his face.

His footsteps echoed across the marble flooring, technologically advanced it was. This man often wondered why it was so silent—like an empty grave, the tomb robber already gone. He checked the computer systems, but hadn't bothered to decode what this "running" meant. If they were running, what were they supposed to run from? Rogue Heartless? Was it Nobodies that wanted hearts from life forms that used to trespass this land of many tales?

Whatever it was, the catastrophe was long gone and no one knew about his safe haven. That was incentive enough to get him away from his insufferable colleagues, particularly Vexen. The dark haired man winced as he thought of how the older man would react to this world of hidden knowledge. Probably would have commissioned the Superior to move his lab here and curse the books with his eternal smell of chemicals. While he was also a scientist, his nose was far too powerful a weapon to risk damaging.

Hands empty from deploying the books to different parts of the library, the young member of his organization decided to try his hand at locating books from different parts of the library. Racking his brain, he recalled that in the northwestern part of this world, was the biographies section, the teleportation devices, and the home of the gift shop. Shrugging, he decided to take a walk to the northwestern side and find what else lurked near the biography section. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could see some other nonfiction texts, maybe a whole wing dedicated to the wonders of science! Emboldened by these ideals, the anomaly strode forward with vigor.

As he walked, he noted the light fixtures and the sloping dome of the building. Although he was not fascinated by the art of architecture, he could easily say the columns that rose from the floor and into the heavens impressed him. It all seemed so antique, but so brand new! A surge of what could have been sadness overcame him as he thought of the poor tomes that held so much knowledge, slowly be clothed in fine layers of dust. If he ever found the librarian of this establishment, he was going to have to beat a lecture into that person.

"You shouldn't be here, didn't the computers tell you that you should run?" Ah, speak of the devil. The young man hardened his gaze, still unseen by the cowl that concealed his face. At the silence that accompanied the young man's sudden stop, the stranger bowed his head and laughed. "Well, the computers didn't tell you to run, they were supposed to warn you. Then again, with that emotionless tact of theirs, I wouldn't be surprised if you had foregone all that and decided to venture in because of some farfetched idea that you will survive! The last time—"

"Run from what? I have no reason to fear the library, other than the overwhelming vast number of books, that is," the young man took notice of the small grin that appeared on the man's curiously young face. But the eyes did not fool the scientist. Right where there would have been foolish curiosity held centuries' worth of lies, deception, and mercy. This was a man that he would rather not goad into an intellectual conversation that would result into his eventual defeat.

"Cheeky, aren't you? Why don't you come with me, into the TARDIS and into a nice pub, yeah? We can talk tea and crumpets or whatever you people do in your free time instead of endangering your life with," the impossibly aged man thought for a moment before gesturing into the wide open expanses of the planet," _this place_." While the young man couldn't feel, or relate to feeling, he got the impression that this man was scared. He appeared so scared, and so caring to a stranger that hadn't given his name yet.

The lad thought for a moment and moved away, the slightest of movements could be classified as a shake of the head. There was no reason to conform to the man's orders or listen to his mindboggling attempts at kindness. If this was the librarian, no wonder this place looked like Demyx's room!

"I have no reason to do what you demand of me, kindly leave me be and I swear to leave you alone." He turned away, about to melt into the shadows, but the man halted him with a sharp intake of breath.

"Aren't you curious about the circumstances that took place here two hundred years before? About the swarm of the unknown causing 4,022 people to be saved and yet there were no survivors? Doesn't it bother you that we're the only living things that exist on this planet?" The man was speaking hurriedly, a manic gleam appearing in his ageless eyes.

"I did my research, thank you," the young man attested coldly. "And no, I rather like how silent and enormous the institution is without the interference of outside forces. Besides, you look like a scholar yourself, aren't you pleased that there is no one to disrupt your academic activities?" The dark haired man flexed his fingers, a reflex when responding to hostile natives who dared cross paths with him for nothing. He wasn't called the Cloaked Schemer or the Shadow Walking Tactician for nothing.

The stranger looked deflated for a second, hidden meanings and feelings that the man wanted to caress and hold…just for the feel of what emotions could make a grown man stop and stare out into nothing like that.

"Perceptive, I like that," the man mused as he took a step further towards the young man. The cloaked individual stood his ground, but he made sure that there were several exits in case a fight were to break out. "How did you know that I was a scholar of some sort?" A crinkle appeared next to the man's eyes, crow's feet the scientist remembered. Laughter lines.

"Would there be any reason as to why a person with limited intelligence visit the library? Unless you're the librarian, then you're here to gain knowledge. Which reminds me, I am also here to gain knowledge by the process of perusing the numerous array of articles that are present." The dark tone that the young man used at the end of his speech was not lost on the suited man. This was a fighter, this one, he thought sadly. How was he supposed to save him from the shadows if he kept that hostile façade?

"Come now! Those with a less prestigious IQ can hold and read a book! I once met a lady, nice girl. Miss Evangelista, hard worker, just needed to polish a few screws and she would have been golden," he smiled broadly before sobering. "She died in this part of the library."

"Did she die of a paper cut," the man opposite asked rudely. Instead of waiting for the man's quick retort, he made sure to move on before the other man could defend this Miss Evangelista. "What's it to you, or me? What happened here centuries ago is long gone. I checked some of the surfaces, just some common bacteria and loads of dust. There was clumps of those dust particles that I saw drifting in the sunlight, nearly died of asphyxiation from accidentally breathing it all in."

"You breathed it all in, the particles," the man yelped. Taking something mechanical out if his pockets, he waved the object around, eliciting a strange neon light that wasn't hard to place. What he couldn't place was why this thing emitted that strange sounding sound. No doubt, if Demyx were here or someone with a more sensitive ear, they would have been lying on the floor bleeding. "You're supposed to be dead. At the most, your body could have been reanimated by the particles, but why aren't they responding to you? Strange, you're something different…not human, not Carrionite, definitely not Time Lord, and you're way too smart for a Sontaran. Just what are you, hmm?" The man looked expectantly at his companion, the far off memory of someone else doing the eye trick was rusty in his mind.

The urge to be human caused an epic battle to be waged on his visage as he tried his utmost not to smirk to broadly.

"I'm a Nobody."

"I can see that. I mean, what species are you? Humanoid, but not acting very human…" The man tutted as he glanced at the floor and back to the lad. A strange darkness seemed to descend into the man's eyes, a territory that the young scientist was intimately familiar. "Are you still there? I mean consciously."

He raised his dark clothed hands in response. "Have you gone blind within moments of our conversation? I am still here, not dead mind you." Just what could have made the man so serious and jumpy all of a sudden, the Nobody thought. Was it some regulation or ritual that regular people had to go through if trust was not established upon first sight? If so, the man was not going to go all mushy just for the sake of the fellow scholar to stop staring at the floor like that! "Unless the floor is far more friendlier than me, then by all means, make friends with it."

As he moved to get away from only other living thing from the archives, the man spoke up. This time, it was far more subdued…quiet almost.

"I think the floor is far more dangerous than you can ever imagine," the man whispered.

"What do you possibly mean?" An unplanned snappy retort was issued from his lips, a human side of him that was slowly being unearthed. What was it with this man and his ability to make him feel? "How can the floor—?" His cobalt gaze captured the marble, and what he saw truly and utterly fascinated him. There were several shadows that overwhelmed his own. They appeared to be moving if you looked close enough, like watching a person's chest while they sleep.

"Don't move, for your sake and mine," the man pleaded as he held out his metal thing.

"They're only shadows," the man bit out with unleashed boredom.

"Shadows that can kill within seconds."

The stranger with the object widened his eyes as he saw the pale lips underneath the hood perk up into an emotionless grin.

"Is," a gloved hand reached out.

"That," he hesitates before plunging into the darkness.

"So," his fingers feel like overjoyed puppies are nipping them. It was a sensation that unnerved the scientist, but he saved face and grinned tooth and all at the man. Curse human instincts.

"How—What? I…" In all of his years of giving out speeches and endless demands, he finds himself at a loss for words. How could this humanoid creature defy the only instinct that the Vashta Nerada had? "The Vashta Nerada, they aren't eating you!"

"Such a poetic name," the scientist whispers. He takes off his gloves, ignoring the years of adhering to protocol when encountering dangerous creatures and the man's shouts of warning behind him. Gently, his pale fingers fly through the midst of the creatures. If he listens closely, he can hear them laugh, goading him to feed them to the man behind them. Strangely, he feels at home with these things. These creatures of the shadows. "We're a lot alike, you and I," he murmurs before rising and nodding back to the man.

"This place has been haunted by these…Vashta Nerada, yes?" The name of the dark ones feel so at home on his tongue and warmth encases his entire being.

"Why, yes! These lot had been clumping together for years, always having a hankering for—" The boy silences the much older man before his own darkness encases his hand and his own book appears. The man furrows his eyebrows but does not say a word. The schemer likes to keep it that way.

In the tongues of ancient Latin, he sweeps all of the little beasts into his Book of Retribution. The wind sweeps all of the little creatures within, the soundless wail of millions of souls are trapped within the papery mildew, rejoicing at last to find a forest to call their own. Meanwhile, the strange new-old man stands against a counter, his posture reading fear. His eyes reveal pain, sorrow, and respect for what his companion has done. The scientist has a feeling that he is not human, but he brushes that aside and moves to leave.

"D-did you kill them? They were innocent creatures—"

"I beg to differ, they are sentient and could have easily lived off the bindings off of these books. While I am thankful they did not, I assume you didn't want your fingers to be bitten so I relocated them." Will this man ever leave things alone?

"In that book of yours?"

"It's bigger on the inside."

For some odd reason, the man smiled, the gleam of friendliness returning to his features.

"I really should get that copyrighted."

While he was curious about that offhanded comment, he did not want to label himself as a hypocrite in his own mind so opted for something more genuine. He quirked his eyebrow even though the man couldn't see it.

"While I would have been far more content had you been quieter, I commend you on your ability to weave an argument that lasted for more than the average two minutes. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some books that I need to read."

"Are you sure? For what it's worth, I would like to thank you for your service… Would you like to travel with me, see the stars, explore new planets?" Again, there was that longing that was registering uncomfortable for the cloaked man. "I'm in need of a companion you see and…"

"I have no romantic interest in you and I have—"

"—no reason to trust me, I got that. In fact, if I were me, I wouldn't trust myself." The man laughed at himself and held out a worn calloused hand. "I'm the Doctor and you are?"

"The Cloaked Schemer and are you sure that you're not the librarian? Because if you are, you did a horrible job at keeping the place neat."

* * *

Based on "Silence in the Library" and Zexion's pursuit of knowledge. I sincerely apologize if they were OOC or if the dialogue was far too lengthy.


End file.
